


A Study in Glass

by deepestfirecrusade



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst(?), Character Study, Drowning, Glass as a metaphor, Imagery, Other, Snipers and Missions, Telepathy, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:35:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27608417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deepestfirecrusade/pseuds/deepestfirecrusade
Summary: Viktor and his evolution to become the glass figure which shifts, cracks and ultimately shatters from the weight of the world.





	A Study in Glass

**Author's Note:**

> This character study is so long overdue for Viktor, the bastard's been living in my mind for too long and now here he is. 
> 
> Most of this is a big study on who Viktor is as an individual, mostly a bunch of self exploration for the telepath as well as some exploration into his trauma. 
> 
> Anyways, hope y'all enjoy these brain worms. 
> 
> \- Eli

Glass is something he watches with wonder in his eyes. The local glass blowers show off their art, handling the pieces of the glass with delicacy, soft enough to meld the liquid into something beautiful. 

Yet at the same time as the figures are graceful, they’re fragile, one snap and they shatter into thousands of pieces. 

It’s those pieces which cut through every bit of softness which exist. Viktor wants to laugh. 

_ Isn’t this what he is?  _

\--- 

Glass they say, starts off as a liquid, one without an identity which becomes melded into him. One made to become the perfect soldier in a world that wanted him to choke. A perfect puppet for others to manipulate. 

_ “You’ll be going here,” the boss says with a quiet laugh. “Don’t worry, everything will be fine.”  _

_ He nods, eyes glazed over. This was his job.  _

_ “Of course,” he replies on autopilot. Part of him wants to scream.  _

Just as glass has heat to be manipulated, Viktor looks back to the time where the pressure begins to choke. A noose around his neck to make him bend in the way he should be. 

The ones who bend the tools to bend the Agents into perfect tools are the ones who aren’t afraid to break their imperfect creations. Too much force during the glass bending process is when everything snaps. Incomplete masterpieces without a place to go but the trash. 

Part of him has always wondered what the others saw from him. After all, isn’t he nothing more than a tool as well?

Something to be bent, to fit into corners which he shouldn’t be able to. Viktor wants to laugh at his own stupidity back then. There isn’t a place where he will fit. 

Nowhere at all. 

After all, where does a broken glass figure go besides the trash? 

\--- 

The drying period for glass is fast, just enough for glass to cool down; to finally show its form to the world. Even a chipped toy can still be used, despite everything. 

Viktor remembers back to the days in the field, making sure no one got the better of him. One false room and it’ll be his head on the floor. 

Kindness is for fools no matter how much he wants for something so stupid. All it does is leave cracks to be exploited on his glass figure. The only thing connections are going to give him is his body on the ground one day. 

\--- 

He supposes that it is obvious that one day a chipped figure will be forced to be cracked. It comes in the form of a young man with brown curls, with cold eyes. 

Adrian Hong. 

Viktor supposes it makes sense that a fool would meet another. The sniper is nothing but an idiot; one who believes that he will meet an old con partner. If anything, the telepath swears the guy is dead.

It’s during one of their first meetings when they finally try to connect. 

“Belize was nothing,” he mutters during one of their missions to his comms. “No matter how much you wish it was more.” 

The sniper scoffs. “It sounds like you’ve never been cared for. Wei Ying is all I have.” 

Adrian has a point but life doesn’t work that way. Bridges are nothing but to be snapped in half, to be burned to the ground. 

“It is what it is,” he resigns, spreading out his telepathy to catch onto something. Viktor has a bad feeling about this. 

Eight guards. Lucky number eight that follows them like a blessing for them. Viktor cracks his knuckles, this’ll be a piece of cake. He signals to Adrian, perched on top the highest point of the building, out of sight. 

_ Bang!  _

The sound of a bullet rings through the hallway and Viktor makes his way into the building. He makes sure not to leave anything behind, everything could make sure their heads will roll. 

_ Bang! Bang!  _

Each of his footsteps ring through the hallway to the main room where the information is located. Viktor breathes in, eyes darting over the scene. Glass was never fragile, only those who knew how lethal it was know it's true power. 

_ Bang!  _

He catches a new mind in the room. One that’s bright enough to blind the sun, the feeling of a blanket wrapping around him. Viktor scowls. The bastard. No one else should’ve heard about this! 

_ Bang! Bang!  _

Viktor hears the last few shots fired by the sniper, internally congratulating the idiot. Maybe Adrian was useful for something besides trying to get something he can’t get. 

_ Crash!  _

He smashes the door in only to catch a figure leaving from the window, nimble as a fox. Viktor swears, making sure the sniper hears every word. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Against his better will, he follows only to chase into an unknown forest. 

The wind kindly greets him, wrapping him in a tight embrace as his hands turn cold. He  _ needs  _ those files, damn the consequences. It’s then when the glass cracks. 

Viktor finds himself falling, falling into the small lake. Part of him curses his own stupidity. Did he really think he could out run a thief, one as quick as a creature from the depths? He cries out at first, desperate to breath, instead of the freezing water bleeding into his clothing. 

He’s not sure when he stops, allows it to be. Nothing can be strong forever after all. 

There’s someone shouting. 

Strong arms around him and bringing back to the surface. Viktor reflexively tries to get as much body heat he can. Gods, was everything this bright? The other shouts, picking him up with surprising ease as the everything blurs together. 

Maybe he’s overdue for a nap. 

Everything goes dark. 

\-- 

Viktor wakes up to Adrian tending a fire in a cabin of some sort. Their getaway location. The sniper doesn’t look up, adding more coals to the flame. Part of him kicks himself as he sees their clothing hanging throughout the small room. 

“What happened?” he croaks, glancing over at Adrian. 

The sniper doesn’t say anything, still fiddling with the fire. He rubs his eyes, noting the dark eye bags under the other man’s eyes. 

“Lots of shit happened,” Adrian replies, running a hand through his curls. Part of Viktor wonders what it’d feel like to feel those hands in his own. He kicks himself internally. “Now I’d appreciate it if you stopped chasing after mysterious figures running across lakes. It’d make both of our lives easier.” 

It’s a fair point. 

“They still took our files though.” he reasons. “Surely--” 

“Not if you can think of some way to track them, telepathically mind you. I have no idea who they are.” 

Part of his glass shell cracks. This is a life debt, something he has to pay back someday. 

Viktor hopes they never meet again. 

They do; in fact they get paired together. 

Just his luck. 

\--- 

He can’t recall when he shatters, was it because there were too many pieces to pick up from the past? Or was it from his own stupidity? Viktor supposes it was the combination to the cracks, beginning to form after the Commission forces him to work with Adrian. 

The sniper is a figure, someone cloaked in mystery yet Viktor can’t help but feel that they share the same material. Both of them are clipped structures, monsters in the world which will never look at them twice. 

Part of him curses his own inability to look away. His own refusal to long for something. Maybe it’s the loneliness talking but most pieces of glass stand by their lonesome. 

There’s no one who can put him back together again. Viktor’s a structure who keeps on losing pieces. Too many pieces have been lost to what was, a past he wants to not see every night. 

_ Blood everywhere.  _

_ The voices.  _

_ The feeling where he can’t breathe, yet the surface is right there.  _

He’s no perfect soldier, instead a cuckoo trying to fit into a world of perfect pieces. There’s no place for him. 

Perhaps it’s for the better. 

\--- 

Viktor isn’t sure when he starts to want something, to want for someone to look at his shattered self, his dead self and to say that everything is going to be alright. Maybe he’d rather eat his foot than admit it. 

No one’s going to see him for what he is, a monster slotted into a human shape. The world doesn’t want him if the scars were anything. 

He wants to laugh. 

Despite his fruitful partnership with Adrian, the sniper leaves one night without a word. There’s a note on the table. Viktor hates how a monster growls in his gut. 

Viktor wants something he can’t have. 

How poetic for the monster to feel companionship only for it to be stripped away. 

Glass does cut through any sort of kindness after all. A shattered figure can’t be reborn into the same beauty which the others are in. Viktor won’t ever shine like the others, rather he reflects what is, what was. 

A collage of different colours. One filled with unique patterns. 

One day, Viktor finds himself looking at the stained glass windows decorating a church during one of his jobs. The thoughts of the others blur together into a soft noise in the background. 

So this is what he could be, a kaleidoscope of colours. The thought makes him laugh, if only to an audience of one. 

“It does take an art to make them into this,” a young man says beside him. His hair styled in a way to frame his bright face. 

Viktor feels the warmth bleed into his mind, a blanket on a cold day-- 

“I suppose,” he says tilting his head. “Makes you wonder how they planned all this.” 

The young man smiles at him. Truly a star against the dark skies that cover their world. 

Was it really  _ he  _ who was a thief? 

“Well definitely more than my gigs.” 

Fuck, it really is this guy isn’t it? 

“Right.” 

The thief looks around, before scratching the back of his head with one hand. The other hand hands him a calling card. 

It reads: 

_ Sebastian Wei  _

_ A Smiley at your service!  _

  
  


For all of Viktor’s cracked exterior and interior, he wonders if everything will be alright. Despite his frustrations, he doesn’t understand why someone who glows like  _ this  _ could ever end in this occupation. 

A broken figure isn’t always thrown out; sometimes it’s about waiting for the right stranger to pick it up from the store. 

  
  



End file.
